CHAPTER 1: The Girl No One Sees
1485 Words
The rejection email arrived at exactly 9:12 in the morning.
Seren Wilde stared at the screen, unmoving, as if the words would change if she waited long enough.
We regret to inform you…
She didn’t read the rest.
She didn’t need to.
Her fingers slowly loosened around her phone, letting it fall onto the worn wooden table beside her. The faint thud echoed in the small studio apartment, louder than it should have been.
Too loud.
Too final.
For a moment, she said nothing. Felt nothing.
Then she laughed.
A soft, breathless sound that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Of course,” she muttered, pushing herself away from the chair. “Why would this one be any different?”
The room around her was a quiet testament to her failures.
Canvases leaned against every wall—some half-finished, others abandoned entirely. Paint tubes lay scattered like casualties of a war she kept losing. The air smelled faintly of turpentine and stubborn hope.
She had sent that portfolio to one of the most prestigious galleries in the city. Weeks of preparation. Sleepless nights. Every brushstroke carefully chosen.
And still—
Not enough.
Never enough.
Seren dragged a hand through her messy hair and walked toward the largest canvas in the room. It stood near the window, catching what little sunlight managed to slip through the gray morning.
Her latest piece.
Her best one.
At least, she thought so.
A woman stood at the center of the painting, her face turned slightly away, shadows dancing across her features. There was something unfinished about her expression—like she was on the verge of saying something important but never quite did.
Seren exhaled slowly.
“Maybe you’re the problem,” she whispered, staring at it.
Or maybe I am.
A sharp knock at the door broke the silence.
She froze.
No one visited her.
Not anymore.
Another knock—firmer this time.
Seren frowned and wiped her hands on her paint-stained shirt before making her way to the door. She hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the knob.
Then she opened it.
A man stood on the other side.
Well-dressed. Clean. Out of place.
He didn’t look like someone who belonged in her building—or anywhere near her world.
“Miss Seren Wilde?” he asked, voice polite but distant.
Seren blinked. “Yes?”
He gave a small nod, then extended a sealed envelope toward her.
“I was instructed to deliver this to you personally.”
She stared at it but didn’t take it immediately.
“From who?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
Of course.
Because why would anything in her life be simple?
Seren finally took the envelope, her fingers brushing against the smooth, expensive paper. Even without opening it, she could already tell—
This wasn’t ordinary.
“Is this… another rejection?” she asked, half-joking, half-expecting it.
The man didn’t smile.
“I believe you’ll find it… quite the opposite.”
Before she could ask anything else, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the narrow hallway.
Seren stood there for a long moment, staring at the envelope in her hands.
Her name was written across it in elegant script.
Too elegant.
Too deliberate.
Something about it made her chest tighten.
Slowly, she closed the door.
She didn’t open it right away.
Instead, she placed it on the table and walked back to her painting, as if delaying the inevitable could somehow change whatever was inside.
Her gaze lingered on the unfinished woman.
“You think this is a bad idea?” she murmured.
The painting, of course, didn’t answer.
Seren let out a quiet breath, then turned back.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Still, she picked it up.
Carefully.
Like it might disappear if she wasn’t gentle enough.
The seal broke with a soft tear.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Thick. Heavy. Expensive.
Her eyes scanned the contents.
Then widened.
Miss Seren Wilde,
Your work has been selected for a private commission.
You are invited to complete a series of paintings under the patronage of Mr. Lucas Deveraux.
Details will be discussed in person. Transportation will be arranged.
This opportunity is extended exclusively to you.
Seren read it again.
And again.
Her heart started to pound.
“Lucas… Deveraux?” she whispered.
The name felt familiar.
Too familiar.
Her brows slowly furrowed as recognition dawned.
No.
No way.
Lucas Deveraux wasn’t just anyone.
He was the Lucas Deveraux.
The reclusive billionaire whose name carried weight in every elite art circle.
A man who rarely appeared in public.
A man whose private collection was rumored to be worth more than entire museums.
A man who—
“Why me?” she breathed.
It didn’t make sense.
Nothing about this made sense.
Out of all the artists—
Why her?
Her gaze drifted back to her painting.
To the unfinished woman.
To the silence that seemed to stretch between them.
Then, quietly—
“Okay,” Seren said.
Not because she trusted it.
But because she had nothing left to lose.
The car arrived that same afternoon.
Black. Sleek. Impossibly expensive.
Seren stood outside her building, clutching her bag as she stared at it.
This was insane.
Absolutely insane.
“Miss Wilde?” the driver called.
She swallowed, then nodded. “Yes.”
He opened the door for her.
And just like that—
There was no turning back.
The city blurred past her window as the car moved.
From crowded streets to quiet avenues.
From noise to silence.
From everything she knew…
To something she didn’t.
Seren pressed her forehead lightly against the glass, watching the world change around her.
Her reflection stared back.
Tired eyes. Paint-stained hands. A girl who had spent years trying to be seen—
And failed.
Her fingers curled slightly.
“Don’t mess this up,” she whispered to herself.
The mansion was exactly what she expected.
And somehow, worse.
Tall gates. Endless driveway. Architecture that screamed power and money without apology.
Seren stepped out of the car, her breath catching slightly.
This wasn’t just wealth.
This was a different world.
“Right this way,” the driver said.
She followed.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
Inside, everything was… quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that didn’t feel peaceful—just controlled.
Measured.
Like even the air here had rules.
Seren’s eyes wandered across the walls as she walked.
Paintings.
Dozens of them.
No—
Hundreds.
Her pulse quickened.
These weren’t just any artworks.
They were masterpieces.
Originals.
Pieces she had only ever seen in books… or dreamed of seeing in person.
“What is this place…” she whispered.
“A collection.”
The voice came from behind her.
Low.
Calm.
Dangerously controlled.
Seren froze.
Then slowly turned.
And there he was.
Lucas Deveraux.
Tall. Imposing. Dressed in dark, tailored perfection.
But it wasn’t just his appearance that made her breath hitch.
It was the way he looked at her.
Like he already knew her.
Like she wasn’t a stranger—
But something he had been expecting.
“Miss Wilde,” he said.
Her name rolled off his tongue like it belonged there.
Seren straightened instinctively. “Mr. Deveraux.”
His gaze didn’t waver.
Not even for a second.
“You’re late.”
Her brows furrowed. “I—your car just arrived—”
“I don’t like waiting.”
The words weren’t loud.
But they landed.
Hard.
Seren felt something tighten in her chest.
Annoyance.
Or maybe defiance.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have invited someone you’ve never met before,” she said, unable to stop herself.
Silence followed.
Sharp. Tense.
For a brief moment, Seren wondered if she had just ruined everything.
Then—
Lucas stepped closer.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Until there was barely any space left between them.
Her breath caught.
“You’re bold,” he murmured.
Not a compliment.
Not quite an insult either.
Seren lifted her chin slightly. “I’m honest.”
His eyes darkened.
Interesting.
That was the word hidden in his gaze.
“Good,” he said finally. “I have no use for liars.”
Something about the way he said it made her skin prickle.
Like there was more behind those words.
Much more.
Lucas turned away first.
“Come,” he said. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Seren hesitated.
Then followed.
Because despite everything—
Curiosity was stronger than fear.
They walked deeper into the mansion.
Past more paintings.
More silence.
More secrets hidden in plain sight.
Until—
He stopped.
In front of a large door.
Locked.
Seren’s breath slowed.
Her chest tightened.
She didn’t know why.
But something about that door felt…
Wrong.
Lucas glanced at her briefly.
As if measuring something.
Then—
He unlocked it.
The door opened.
And Seren stepped inside.
Her world shifted.
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